


The Friends We've Made Along The Way (And Other Mistakes)

by aldreikynn



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, there is alcohol in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 04:59:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3965299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldreikynn/pseuds/aldreikynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fun little Rewind-centric thing and general day-in-the-life Lost Light shenanigans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Friends We've Made Along The Way (And Other Mistakes)

 Rewind didn't particularly like Swerve's bar. Scummy, loud, crowded... The epitome of true Cybertronian communal spirit, he supposed. He listened absently as Chromedome explained to an extremely intoxicated Trailcutter the rules of fullstasis, stirring his drink with a single digit. He'd only bought anything to humor his conjunx. Rewind didn't intend at all to drink, mostly because he never really saw the appeal of putting anything that negatively affects your performance in your body for any reason, but also because it was sort of unpleasant without a standard intake (or a straw).

"Attention, Lost Light crew." Rodimus' voice announced over the intercom. The raucous noises of the bar hushed. "Rewind of Lower Petrohex, report to the captain's quarters for a brief meeting. Thank you."

"Wait for it..." Trailcutter slurred into the tabletop. A row of patrons pinched shot glasses between their digits.

"'Til all are one." The intercom clicked off, and Rodimus' trademark closer prompted Trailcutter to lift his drink up into the air triumphantly, cueing a line of shots. The row lifted their respective glasses from the table and cocked them backwards, slamming them down and cheering.

"Primus. If you drink every time those words tumble out of his mouth, you'll die in a day," Chromedome muttered, standing up to get another drink.

"No, no, just take mine." Rewind pushed his drink over to Chromedome and sighed. "I wasn't gonna drink it anyway. Wonder what Rodimus wants. It's probably nothing, huh?"

"Probably nothing," Chromedome agreed. "Hey, listen, I'm gonna stay here and make sure Trailcutter doesn't die. You can manage on your own for a few minutes, huh?" Pistons clicked behind his faceplate, indicating a smile.

"Shut up," Rewind laughed. "Of course I can manage on my own. I don't know about you, though. Don't get too crazy, Domey." He tugged his conjunx down by a finial, tapping their faceplates together in a mock kiss. He rubbed the larger mech's shoulder affectionately. "See ya."

Rewind walked alone from the bar, the shouts and cheers dying down as he moved. The corridors of the Lost Light were never completely silent. People rushed from place to place, rarely just taking the time to take in the wonders of the infinite space they drifted in. Finally seeing the universe as it was meant to be seen, free of the steel grip of civil war. Seeing the universe "without a gun in your hand", as they were promised. Freedom, nearly in its purest form.

The subdued hum of the quantum engines accompanied Rewind on his walk to Rodimus' office, nearly leaving the mech alone with his thoughts. No speech, aside from the occasional hushed "excuse me" or "sorry" when he moved out of the path of another hurried mech. No sound, really, other than the ambience that shrouded the ship constantly.

Rewind made it his business to observe. As an archivist, it was quite literally his job. He looked out a window into the openness of space, taking the moment to record a tiny piece of the infinite universe. The mech synthesized an awed sigh as the beauty and color of the galaxies soaked into his optic receptors and camera lens. Quiet hums faded to silence. He snapped out of his boundless stare, realizing that he'd lost track of time and actually had somewhere he needed to go. So much for the purest form of freedom.

 

* * *

 

 "Rewind!" Rodimus greeted the smaller mech with a grin. "Mind your shoulders on the door," he warned jokingly. Although Rewind was a relatively small mech, his shoulders spanned fairly wide. Not as wide as someone like Ultra Magnus, but wide enough for Rodimus to show concern, however cursory or insincere it may have been.

"Uh. Hi, Rodimus." Rewind began, twirling his digits gently. Rodimus relaxed in his office, his pedes resting up on his desk and his servos folded behind his head. "Do you need something?"

"As a matter of fact," Rodimus said as he pulled his legs in and swept them back under the table. He shifted to a forward lean, pressing the palms of his hands on the desk's surface purposefully. Rodimus gave Rewind an unfamiliar look. "I do." The smirk was still present, now with an air of smug confidence. Rewind's visor flared and he knit his digits together, shifting uncomfortably.

"Excuse me, Captain," Rewind mused as he recoiled slightly. "Are you coming on to me?" Rodimus dropped the smile and froze. "You're being sort of inappropriate. I'm married, Rodimus." A look of embarrassment washed over him, which soon decorated Rewind as well. A good ten awkward seconds of silence and avoiding eye contact passed.

"No." Rodimus finally interjected, trying to break the pause in the gentlest way he could manage. "Uh. Wow. Primus. No. Actually, I called you in to ask about the quest log. I guess I was being kind of... Forward, huh?"

"Oh. Wow. Okay." Rewind stuttered. "You just had a very strange way of communicating such a simple request," he concluded, glancing at Rodimus' frame. Rodimus paused, correcting his decidedly inappropriate body language. Rewind covered his visor with a hand and sighed. "The quest log is going well. I actually edited a few clips together into some categorized compilations recently. I'm glad you- uh. I'm glad you're invested enough to call me into your office about it, Rodimus."

"Of course!" Rodimus smiled again and carried on despite the obvious discomfort from the archivist. "I care about my quest, and I want to make sure it'll look good in the history books, y'know? Like, I know I'll look good, because, I mean, look at me. I'm gorgeous. But I'm talking about the uh- um." Rodimus trailed off. "Where was this going again? The quest or something? Whatever. I don't need anything else from you right now, Rewind. You can go if you want. Unless you want some shots of me being amazing." Rodimus posed. If Rewind had standard optics, they'd have rolled.

"No, sir, I... I think I'll be okay without..." He paused. "That." He gestured to Rodimus' frame. "I ought to be going, actually, yes. I'll keep you posted on the quest log if anything comes up."

"Alright! See ya, Rewind!" Rodimus formed finger pistols and pointed them at a quickly departing Rewind. He synthesized a few short, high pitched "pew" noises. Rewind sighed, not looking back. His blocky pedes clicked against the metal of the ship's flooring and echoed in the empty halls. The finger pistols were still in full force, but the "pew"s were becoming quieter and less frequent.

As Rewind left the room, he heard an exasperated sigh and a string of unintelligible profanities from Rodimus. He turned around for a look back at his captain, seeing him with his optics pressed closed and the bridge of his nose pinched between two digits. Rewind looked forward again and heard another sound, this time one that was almost definitely the sound of a head hitting a desk.

Rewind opened up his neocortex, skimming through files to find the new recording of his and Rodimus' awkward little meeting. Whether he wanted to or not, he had recorded it from the beginning, because you really never know what you're getting into on this godawful fratboat. He considered putting it in his compilation of Rodimus' failures (of which there were many), eventually deciding against it. Sure, Rodimus was embarrassing in general, but Rewind felt some kind of moral obligation not to archive... Whatever it was that just happened.

The sound of tires screeching down the hallway shook Rewind from his state. A unique, clunky transformation noise and a quiet snicker alerted the archivist that the noise had probably come from Tailgate. Rewind stopped and began tapping his pede gently.

"You're not trying to sneak up on me, are you?" Rewind laughed. "C'mon, Tailgate. I'd know that was you from halfway across the galaxy."

"Is it really that obvious?" Tailgate huffed, turning the corner to greet Rewind. "What about if I was all the way across the galaxy? Bet you couldn't tell then, showoff."

"I'd still know," Rewind answered modestly. "I can recognize almost anyone from their transformation sound. Chromedome thinks it's impressive. It's just fascinating to me, though, how every Cybertronian has their own unique s-"

"Yeah, absolutely!" Tailgate interrupted. "So... what was that meeting about in there? Something awesome and secret?" He prodded Rewind's shoulders with alternating pointed digits, repeating a "huh" noise and adjusting his visor to imitate intrigue.  
Rewind brushed Tailgate's hands off his shoulders, directing his gaze at the minibot. "Just some stuff about the quest movie." He gestured to the red light on his head camera, which was glowing as it usually was.

"Y'know, I thought you had to let people know that you're filming them." Tailgate muttered. "Did you get that little embarrassing failure-of-a-prank just now?"

"Sure did," Rewind said smugly. "I could delete it, if you want. I'll delete almost anything upon request."

"No, it's okay," the sluicer sighed. "It's sort of funny to see other people make fools of themselves. Keep it." Rewind snickered, and Tailgate's optics brightened. "What?"

"Promise you won't tell," Rewind began. "It's about Rodimus." The two minibots sat next to each other. Tailgate knit his digits together apprehensively. "So I've been keeping the log since this quest started, right?" Tailgate nodded in confirmation. "Rodimus has been a mess since this quest started. Hell, even before." Tailgate felt sort of hesitant making fun of his superior in this way, but he laughed anyway. "I've been keeping a compilation of Rodimus' failures. Since the very beginning. It's several hours long." Rewind held a straight face for about three seconds, watching as Tailgate's teal optics widened and began to flare, and he absolutely lost it.

 

* * *

 

"Rewind! That's incredibly disrespectful! You can't do that!" Tailgate sounded terrified. It was hilarious. So genuinely worried that he might get in actual trouble for being an accomplice to harboring embarrassing footage of Rodimus Prime.

"Relax! Primus, Tailgate, you're so panicky," Rewind choked out between laughs. "It's good clean fun. Like you said, it's funny when people make fools of themselves. I'm an archivist. It's my job to keep track of anything even remotely important." Tailgate made a face.

"Yeah. I guess it's not that bad, then. Does Rodimus know?"

"Nope. I mean, even if he did, I feel like he'd laugh. He's got a decent sense of humor. And Rodimus isn't the only one, obviously. His... definitely has the most material, though. I have one for Chromedome, but that's... More of a silly conjunx thing. One for Whirl, which he actually asked me to start so he could 'assess his errors, absorb them, destroy his faults and ascend to godliness'."

"...What?" "I don't know either. All I know is: he's six times my size and armed at all times. I'm just doing what he says."

"Fair enough. Anyone else?" Tailgate looked at the lens of Rewind's camera, almost as if he expected to be able to see in and watch movies or something.

"Uh..." Rewind began skimming his neocortex again. "I have one for Brainstorm, but that's... Sort of the same deal as Whirl. Like, he asks me to film test-runs and prototypes and the like. Honestly, I think he just wants me to send him the footage of the explosions." Rewind tapped his headcam, turning to the nearest flat surface and turning on his projector. He flipped through footage of something that got almost monotonous after the seventh time he was called in to record it. Sure, it was cool to watch a gun blowing up maybe six times, but after that it's just excessive.

"Cool," Tailgate breathed.

"Not really," Rewind sighed. "It got boring pretty quick. There's like... maybe fifty of those. This is just the highlight reel." He flipped through clips of the self-appointed "ship's genius" and his failed creations, which, at this point, Rewind was nearly positive weren't supposed to do anything other than blow up in the first place.

"Seriously? Can we watch 'em all?" Tailgate whispered, awed.

"Uh... I guess? Later, though. I should probably be going back to Swerve's soon, Chromedome's there with no one to monitor him except Trailcutter, and, well..."

"Oh! I can walk with you, Rewind!" Tailgate picked himself up and helped the other minibot to his feet. "Might not be allowed in, though. I think I'm still banned for trying to liberate a part of Swerve's waitstaff... was Nutjob there?"

"I— Yeah. Whirl was there. Why?" Rewind was almost impressed by Tailgate's immediate sidetracking.

"Curious. He's banned too. For a lot of reasons, but most recently for helping me help one of those little waiter drones escape Swerve's tyranny. So if he's there I guess I'm okay?" Tailgate followed Rewind closely, almost skipping.

"I... Hm. You're aware that he's not one to listen to authority. Like, at all. If he wants to go, he'll go. Swerve be damned."

"Very true." Tailgate paused, placing a hand to his facemask pensively. "D'you think that we're ever going to actually find the Knights?"

"That's... Completely out of nowhere. Wow." Rewind stammered. "Me personally? Probably. I mean, we have to, don't we? I feel like the quest isn't stopping until we do."

"But it'll be ages. Are we even close yet?" Tailgate groaned, in the most _are-we-there-yet_ tone Rewind had ever heard in person.

"We really don't know. Without a map or a guide or- really anything more than a feeling, I guess we can't tell, huh?" Rewind sighed. "I'd be okay if we just wandered forever, really. This has been more of an experience than a proper quest."

"Yeah." Tailgate sighed, too. "It is nice, y'know? Just wandering. This ship is like a family, Rewind. It's home." Tailgate adjusted his visor to mock a smile. Damn his visor and faceplate. Too unexpressive for such an amiable mech.

"That's really cheesy, Tailgate," Rewind sighed. "Home. For you, yeah. Definitely," he rambled. "For me, too, I guess. It's not quite a family, but I see where you're coming from, and— Home is a good word. Yeah."

 

* * *

 

 

As the pair stopped in front of the entry to Swerve's bar, Tailgate paused. He read the names on the 'drinks of the day' board, cringing. "I think I'm gonna have to stay out here. The smell of the brand of engex in today's special makes me a little nauseous."

"Join the club," Rewind stifled, manually lowering the strength of his olfactory receptors. "I can teach you how to drown that stuff out, if you wanna come in with me"

Tailgate paused."Sure. Might be useful, y'know?" He leaned up against the wall, pressing two digits to his temples and exhaling deeply. Rewind held up a hand to stall Tailgate. The other minibot froze, turning his head to Rewind's gentle symbol of 'pause' with widened optics. "What?" Tailgate asked. "Am I doing it wrong?"

"You don't have to press anything," Rewind dismissed. "Just... Hm. I don't know how to explain this. Try thinking really hard about it? It comes easier after you do it a lot, I guess."

"I am thinking," Tailgate whined. "It still smells like fraggin' poison." He pressed the tips of his digits harder into the sides of his blocky head. "Please just- tell Chromedome to come out here."

"Alri— Wait. What's the rush?" Rewind prompted.

"I- Huh. I guess I kind of just tagged along with you, didn't I? I suppose that's me leaving, then. That's fine. That's totally okay." For someone who had lied his way through months of his life as a member of Rodimus' crew of misfits, Tailgate sure was a terrible liar. The sluicer adjusted his posture, lifting his head up and locking optics with Rewind. "You should come to my habsuite. I want to watch movies," Tailgate asserted. "Or Brainstorm's explosion reel," he added quietly.

"That's it?" Rewind laughed. "You could have just asked. I'll go get Domey. I might need your help to walk him back anyway. Stay right there." Rewind turned around to walk into the bar. The sound of his pedes clicking against the floor blended into the rest of the noise inside.

Tailgate squatted down, picking absentmindedly at paint on his hand. Nasty habit. He thought about things he'd said earlier, still stuck on 'home' and 'family'. He really hadn't known any semblance of the concept of home before. The cavern under the Mitteous Plateau? Definitely not home. Scrapyards? Not by a longshot. But this- this quest, these crewmates, this ship- It fit his definition pretty well.

"You ready, Tailgate?" Rewind sighed. He walked out of the bar with a swaying Chromedome in tow. "I swear, I leave you alone for twenty minutes and- Tailgate. Assistance would be appreciated." Tailgate stood upright and worked his shoulder underneath Chromedome's free hand, letting the larger mech lean on him for stability. "Thank you."

"Rewind, I'm not that drunk." He tugged his servo away from Rewind's grip, nearly knocking Tailgate over with the resulting onslaught of a lean. "Okay, maybe I'm- Can we just go back to our habsuite, please?" Chromedome stabilized himself on an increasingly unwilling Tailgate. The minibot opposed the weight of Chromedome's entire frame with shaking servos, staring pleadingly at Rewind.

"Yes. Tailgate's coming, too. He wants to watch a few videos."

"Lend him a data slug or something," Chromedome whined. "I'm feeling an impending processor-ache that tops all processor-aches. What are you gonna be watching?"

"Just some explosions," Tailgate whispered.

Chromedome groaned, cocking his head backwards and covering his optics. " _Noooooo_. Nonono. No explosions- Primus, no." He pressed fingers to his temples. Just _thinking_ about loud noises was too much. "That is not an okay volume level right now. No thank you. Please watch something else. Please."

Tailgate looked indignantly up at Chromedome, then back at Rewind, who was holding his conjunx's hand comfortingly. "Fine," he huffed. "I'm just tagging along anyway. I'll leave when you two get back to your room."

Rewind gave him an apologetic look. "We can meet tomorrow, maybe? I can change the movie night date, or—"

"Awesome." Tailgate knitted his fingers together behind his back and rocked on his heels, giving a nod of agreement. He adjusted himself under Chromedome's servo, so as not to be crushed. "I'll help you walk him back. It's getting late, anyway."

"Cool," Rewind huffed. "So tomorrow's fine?"

"Totally! Totally, one-hundred-percent, definitely fine." Tailgate stumbled, supporting Chromedome's leaning frame. "I'll let the usual patrons know." Tailgate liked to consider himself co-manager of Rewind's movie nights, even though he didn't actually contribute anything other than... well, being there.

"Sure, Tailgate," Rewind murmured. Having reached their habsuite, Chromedome fumbled on the keypad with his fingers, returning four or five buzzes. "Domey! You're gonna lock us out!" He swatted Chromedome's hand away, putting his own hand over the keypad and tapping in a code. The door slid up with a satisfying whoosh and Rewind guided his conjunx inside. "I'm really sorry, Tailgate! Tomorrow for sure, though!" The door slid back down as Tailgate waved. He kept moving, waving visibly through the gap under the door until it clicked shut.


End file.
